


Classical Education

by desert_vixen



Category: Die Hard (Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-31
Updated: 2019-04-18
Packaged: 2019-10-01 10:00:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 12,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17242211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/desert_vixen/pseuds/desert_vixen
Summary: Just a Christmas party - smile for the cameras, accept the donation, easy. As it turns out, not so easy in practice.





	1. Chapter 1

The girl took a deep breath. She felt over and underdressed in an instant - Nakatomi, for thirteen years running, invited someone from the ballet to attend the corporation's Christmas party, and she had a feeling that each year such candidate stood out like a sore thumb. Usually it was Gillian, artistic admin. But having been promoted from intern to artistic assistant running all entrance level tasks from wardrobe to lighting, this was another bone to up-and-coming dog. 

'And remember, we need a good photo of the donation. Big smile.' That was the instruction and she felt sick at the thought in her black, hip-hugging dress. Her makeup was too expert for office workers - most of them had spent the afternoon in a salon, if they looked like starlets. She, however, had studied the art of screen sirens and could have herself presentable for such an event within half an hour. No, it wasn't the outfit that was giving her trouble - little black dress, matching heels, and a string of faux pearls around her neck.

Being in photos was another matter. Important photos and press statements, for a behind the scenes country mouse who wanted nothing more to be prepping for the Christmas production of Swan Lake? Hell on earth. And if that wasn't enough, after she gave the acceptance speech there was a man whose eyes were swimming with some hard drug, stinking of narcissism, who was talking her up and within a breath of feeling her up. The theatre and its community of women and gay men had hardly prepped her for the occasion. It had been too long since she'd had to schmooze her way out of such situations, or get paid to put up with them. 

"Hey baby, you come here to find some guys in suits? Say the word and we can make this party private - You look like you're dressed for sex." 

If it weren't for the adrenaline she would have gagged. Or maybe she was just bored, sick of knowing no one at this party. So she followed the guy to a nearby office, gazing out the window as he did a line on the desk. 

"Don't look so surprised, babe."

Mistaking disgust for surprise - strike one. "Oh, I don't judge." Lie one. He motioned for her to come to the window. 

"What a view, eh kid?"

LA in the sunset, absolutely golden, not a hint of winter about it. Still, it was impressive, and she let him kiss her, though it was hardly satisfying. She pulled away when the door opened.

Two men. How awkward. She leapt away, feigning nonchalance. Ellis did the same. 

"Holly's office has some view, huh?"

The younger man - out of place - smirked. "Which one, the window or the table?" 

"Both - only one was impressive," she retorted, seething. It wasn't even the sleaze's own office? "Mister Takagi, thank you again." 

The director smiled, as amused by the situation as the man beside him. "A pleasure, Miss Y/N. She's from the opera house - every year we make a donation. Important to keep the arts alive, don't you think, Mister McClane?" 

The guy shrugged, eyes still on Ellis, darting to the table. "You missed a spot." 

She wanted to be sick. It dawned that in all likelihood, Ellis had brought her here to make the woman who owned this office jealous. 

"Well, gentlemen, thanks for the view but I think I'll be off."

Burning with embarrassment she stormed outside. On the stairs she almost collided with a curly haired woman who took one look at Y/N's face and grimaced. 

"Liked your speech, kid... I saw you coming this way with Ellis. Looks like your taste kicked in at the last minute." 

"If your name is Holly I believe it was your office he took me to." 

Holly rolled her eyes. "Asshole. God, I'm glad I didn't walk in on that. He must have planned it." 

"I wish it was you - Takagi and someone called McClane did." 

"Ah. My husband, John. Ellis needs a psychward but in my experience it's those kind of guys who get the accolades around here. Holly Gennero." They shook hands. "I gotta go check on him - not Ellis, my husband. They're two kinds of men who could tear each other to pieces if Takagi wasn't babysitting. I'll catch you at the bar in fifteen? We can damn 'em to hell."

"It's a date, but I need to get some air after that." 

She just about kept her balance on the stairs, rushing to the nearest elevator. She ignored the security guard at the desk, her heels clacking loudly as she stared out into the dark. If she stepped out now, she could just disappear. She didn't need to stay any longer. It had just been the formality, was all. 

Holly though, she seemed like she was fun to drink with. She fumbled for her handbag, grabbed her lipstick and her pocket mirror, began to reapply with shaking hands. If she left now she was sure she'd be crying in her apartment alone not thirty minutes later.

She saw movement in the window, shadows of men entering the lobby, heard them talking about a game. One of them started making his way to the door, like he'd forgotten something outside. She wiped her eyes. 

Then the gun went off. Just one. She dropped her hand mirror, spinning around only to be caught by the blonde man only footsteps from her, holding a gun point blank to her head. 

"Karl. Play nice, now." 

A man in a grey coat, immediately recognisable as the ring leader motioned for her to come towards the group. Karl prodded her onwards with the gun. 

The security guard was dead. One of the men kicked him from the chair, hid the body under the desk. Another sat at the desk, in uniform. There was only one gun on her now - clearly she was no threat, but the man in the suit had a predatory stare, and as yet she didn't know if he'd marked her as dead meat.

"I-I don't work here. Whatever you want, I'm useless to you."

The two men laughed. Their leader smirked. The man with the gun lowered it only to slam the side of her head. World spinning, she could only gasp for air as he picked her up from the floor, arms behind her back, eyes streaming a few stunned tears. 

So much for perfect makeup.


	2. Chapter 2

"Not the best introduction. Let's see. Ah," said the man in the suit. "Y/N. Artistic assistant at the opera house, here to accept a generous donation. Recently immigrated. I would be sorely interested in a tête à tête, but this evening is on a schedule. Let her go, Karl. Go help Tony. Now come along, Miss Y/N, or we'll be forced to blow a hole through your head." 

She followed along, unsteady. If they weren't surrounding her, she would be straggling behind- it was as if they knew the building better than she did. Her gaze was fixed on the leader ahead of her. 

"Why do you know all of that about me?" 

"I know everything about everyone in this building. We did give you the credit of being one of the most colourful characters, and among the cleaner ones." 

She stumbled - the hired gun caught her by the nape of her neck, and she felt the barrel press into her back. She brought her hands to her mouth, stifling what was half a gasp, half a sob of terror. They were in the service elevator now. 

"Why are you doing this?" she whispered between her fingers. "A school shooting for grown ups?"

"Nothing so juvenile, I assure you. I'll even let you have a little illusion. When the doors open, you are free for all of thirty seconds to swan across the room and grab yourself another glass of wine. Consider yourself our guest thenceforth. But, my dear, consider it also an exercise in trust - if you look back at us, as Orpheus something awful will befall you." 

"I think you'll find Eurydice is the one who suffered for that," she hissed, not expecting Karl to loosen his grip on her so easily as she propelled herself out of the elevator. Orpheus had been an idiot. She was no such fool, and went immediately for the open bar, swaying unsteadily. 

"There you are!" 

Holly. She was back. Waiting, by the looks of it.

"Um, I -" 

"I caught the tail-end of your acceptance speech, it was really-"

Gunfire. The wine glass she'd been fully intending to down like vodka dropped to the floor. 

The group of gunmen got them all in a group like cattle for the slaughter. 

The leader drew a leather bound notebook from his breast pocket and flipped through it, giving an annoyed, “Ladies and Gentlemen,” in a German accent. “Ladies and Gentlemen!” The crowd went silent.

He read from the book, the German fading to a crisp, studied English lilt. 

“Due to the Nakatomi Corporation’s legacy of greed around the globe, they’re about to be taught a lesson in the real use of power. You will be witnesses.” He snaps the book closed and ventures into the crowd as he continues, “Now, where is Mr. Takagi?”

Beside her, Mr. Takagi moved to get up. Holly put a hand on his arm and whispered, “Don’t move," just loud enough for Y/N to hear. 

“Joseph Yoshinobu Takagi. Born, Kyoto 1937. Family emigrated to San Pedro, California 1939. Interned at Manzanar 1942 and 43. Scholarship student University of California 1955. Law degree, Stanford 1962. MBA, Harvard 1970. President Nakatomi Trading, Vice Chairman Nakatomi Investment Group-”

“Enough,” Takagi stood. She glanced, saw Holly's face crumble for an instant.

“And father of five.”

“I am Takagi.”

“How do you do?” The leader relaxed and gave a disarming smile. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” The gunmen ushered the company boss away, earning a few screams in the process. 

But the leader of the group didn't move. His eyes met hers. He gave a motion, and the all too familiar Karl was back, one hand at her neck, gun at her back. This time she couldn't help it, she let out a small cry. Behind her Holly shouted, "What the hell are you doing? She's just a kid!" 

"Ladies and gentlemen," the leader said, back to the mode of his first address. "If things go according to plan, and everyone behaves, they live. If not..." 

Karl fired a shot into the air. It was so loud Y/N trapped another scream, started to breathe rapidly on the brink of a panic attack by the time they arrived upstairs, stepping from a private elevator into what looked more a lounge than an office.


	3. Chapter 3

"Sh-sh," instructed the leader as he walked by her. 

She stepped out after him, followed by three gunmen and Mr. Takagi. He hummed the finale to Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony as he came to a stop in front of a model of the Nakatomi Plaza and said primly, “And when Alexander saw the breadth of his domain, he wept for there were no more worlds to conquer.” He turned to Takagi, “Benefits of a Classical education. Oh, now that’s beautiful.” 

The man’s attention was drawn towards the model of a bridge and he began to wax lyrical about its precision. Takagi saw an opening and jumped at it. 

“Is that what this is all about, our project in Indonesia? Contrary to what you people may think, we are going to develop that region, not exploit it.”

“I believe you. I read the article in Forbes.” Sarcasm dripped from the man as he ushered Takagi into the conference room. Karl shoved Y/N down into a chair, next to a man who looked so like him she pegged them as brothers, but the detail didn't hold so much interest. She closed her eyes.

Takagi raised his voice, got frantic. The German man's voice sounded demonic, compelling him to “SIT! DOWN!” Takagi sounded terrified then. 

She opened her eyes in time to see the man take out a pistol. He set it on the table and said, matter of factly, “Mr. Takagi, I’m really not interested in your computer. But I need the key to access your vaults. And the computer controls the vaults. There are some very interesting things in there, do you not agree?”

“You want money? What kind of terrorists are you?” 

He smirked. "Who said anything about terrorists? Now. I’m going to count to three. There will not be a four. The code, please.”

Takagi realized his fate. He didn't have the code, he said. “One.” 

"Just give him the code, Mister Takagi!" she pleaded. Karl and Theo both threw her smirks, but the man did not reach for the gun. Nor did Takagi give the code, though his eyes darted to her.

“Two.” 

"I tooold you," drawled Theo. 

"It's not over yet," muttered Karl. 

The leader rolled his eyes in annoyance. “Three.”

“I’m telling you I don’t know it. You’ll have to get on a plane to Tokyo and ask the chairman. You’re just going to have to kill me.”

The man paused for a split second before raising his hand. “Okay.” He pulled the trigger, and Y/N shut her eyes too late, glimpsing the blood as it spattered the walls Mr. Joseph Yoshinobu Takagi was no more. 

“We’ll do it the hard way.” 

His loyal followers and employees didn't question him. They just sprang into action, after Karl paid Theo for the bet between the two of them. A soft scrambling just outside the door drew everyone’s attention away from the gruesome scene before them - when she again opened her eyes Y/N saw the leader panic, almost imperceptibly, enough to let her know this was not part of the plan. 

His eyes met hers. 

"Did you bring some squirrel friends from the opera, Miss Y/N?" 

Karl’s return eased his suspicions. It was nothing. Nothing at all. But his attention was on her, and hers was on the body bleeding all over the carpet. 

"You didn't have to kill him."

"It does look like that, doesn't it? So much death, in one night, for someone so young." 

He approached her with the gun and she shrank away at the sight of it. Her breathing was so uneven she didn't trust herself to speak.

"You are not an Orpheus, my dear. Not nearly so stupid. What are you going to be? Hush now, I'll tell you. Galatea. You understand? The perfect insurance."

She couldn't reply - not only because she wasn't sure what to read into that. Her eyes were swimming in the blood of the dead man, and she was limp like a doll as the leader picked her up onto her feet. 

"Come on, not so literal. Don't look there, move. We're just going outside, no need to cling for dear life."

She let go of his jacket, hardly aware then of what she was doing. He pulled her in front of him the moment she did, and he put a hand over her mouth to quieten the small sounds of hysterical terror escaping her. 

They were out in the room of models again. Two of the gunmen reported nothing, departed. 

"Now. Theo. You can break the code."

"You didn't bring me along for my charming personality."


	4. Chapter 4

They crossed the room, only four of them now. The rest of the gunmen were dispersed throughout the building. 

"Thirty minutes to break the code, maybe another hour after that for the mechanics. The seventh lock is out of my hands."

A sliding door, a wall until the stage, moved aside at the push of a button. All inside was silver chrome. Y/N took her moment to pull away from the man in charge, but he held her in place.

"I'm sorry?"

"The seventh lock. You do understand, the connections cannot be cut locally." 

"Trust me."

She shuddered. She could feel that smile above her head, too close for comfort. He nodded at her on the way out.

"I'll leave you to it. Karl, babysit." 

She spent the next thirty minutes watching Theo at work in the distance while Karl hovered over her shoulder.

"You..." she said uneasily. "You lost the bet?" 

Karl smirked. "Don't worry, we have another bet too." 

"What's that?" 

"Whether or not you're good enough to become team mascot. Theo's a pessimist. My brother has good money going on you." 

She frowned. "Mascot?" 

He just laughed. He hadn't even looked at her the entire length of the conversation. 

"You hit me with your gun." 

"People kick dogs and they're still good dogs. Don't move!" 

He pushed her back onto the sofa just as the walkie talkie crackled to life. 

"Bad news, Karl," said an unfamiliar voice. They switched to German, and through the exchange she saw a mounting hysteria in the man. The moment it went silent he laid his eyes on her again and there was murder there. He kicked over the table nearest to them. With the momentum he wheeled and grabbed her by the hair, throwing her to the floor. 

"Karl, man-" 

"Get back to work, Theo! Tony is dead, and someone is going to pay NOW!" He grabbed her by the neck and threw her against the wall, feet kicking air, hands grappling at his wrist. 

"Karl! KARL!" 

The leader was back and Karl let her fall to the ground. From there, the leader pushed him against the wall to keep him from destroying anything or anyone more. 

"He was my only family. I. Want. Blood."

"And you'll have it. After we call the police - they'll waste hours and you can tear the building apart looking for this man but UNTIL THEN we do not alter the plan."

"What if he alters the plan?" 

The leader just raised his eyebrows. Y/N couldn't take it anymore. She tried to crawl away, cowering by a sofa.

"Play nice now. Miss Y/N. That includes you. We have a job for you - this is all a plan, and you're a part of it. Now, sit down, Miss Y/N."

"Don't touch me," she hissed, standing by herself the moment Karl moved to grab her, but grab her he did. They marched down to atrium, from there to an office. The leader gestured to the chair in front of her. Reluctant she sat, a bottle of water placed in front of her by one of the gunmen.  
His eyes were boring into hers as she drank. 

Galatea. Made by Pygmalion. 

"When we came here, we decided we'd select someone as... scapegoat, shall we say. A decoy might suit better. You don't understand - in plain English, you are a special hostage. If something should go wrong you will do well as a debonair human shield no one would dare shoot to get to me. Promoted to bodyguard - in the most literal sense." 

She shook her head. 

"I'm afraid you have no choice in the matter." 

"Who are you?" 

"Hans Gruber, my dear. Master thief. As for you, I'm afraid you were a side crime of opportunity. We're here to steal a lot of money - pray you don't have to help us." 

She nodded. Her head was aching - she could feel a bruise forming. Her knuckles were grazed and so were her knees, and for the life of her she couldn't remember when any of the injuries happened, bar the head wound and the aching throat. 

"Well, I hate to burst your bubble, Mister Gruber, but if anyone came to shoot you in the head they'd have no problem, as I'm afraid I'm a foot shorter than you so perhaps you should go find a big, strong man out there." 

He smiled thinly, as if she was a friendly puppy practicing a bark. "You are light, remember. Keep drinking. I don't want you fainting after that. Light we can abide, a deadweight is a deadweight." 

"In every way," Karl growled. 

"Helpful," drawled Hans, as Y/N inhaled deeply and tearfully, wiping her eyes as she looked away. 

"Gotta hand it to you, boss. Cowboy sees her looking like a lost kid, you're bulletproof. What age are you, twelve?" 

"I'm twenty-five, dickhead." 

He laughed. Then, in the blink of an eye, his palm slammed into her cheek.

She glared and thought about kicking him in the shin. It brought a moment of calm.

Don't do it, her mind warned. A sense of self preservation lingered before she threw it out the window and kicked him anyway.


	5. Chapter 5

Karl didn't falter, moving to stand behind her, sinking his fingers into her shoulder blades. She was sure he would have at it, do something awful. Instead he looked at Gruber. 

"Permission?" 

"To do what exactly?" 

"Teach the pup a lesson."

Gruber thought about it. 

"No," he said, coolly. "No, you're going to take the pup on a walk. Upstairs," he said, meaningfully. 

The walkie talkie crackled to life. 

"MAYDAY MAYDAY - tell police terrorists have seized the Nakatomi building."

Hans' eyes widened. "Forget it. How is - the roof. Go," he ordered Karl, and the man grabbed his machine gun, rallying the others to follow him.

He was agitated now. Dangerous. She shut her eyes, thought of it as a dream. 

"Time for that tête à tête, Miss Y/N. Y/N. You didn't bring anyone here. Any date with a mystery lone wolf type?" 

"They're not my type. And I don't do party dates."

"Remember what I said, Miss Y/N. We are not Orpheus." 

"Please - I don't know any - Please don't let that one come near me again. I'll do what you want, anything, just don't let him touch me." 

"He is rough and ready, you might say. His brother has just been killed, and unfortunately he's looking to make a punching bag out of a plaything. Calm yourself, Miss Y/N, he's after someone his own size now. Drink your water and breathe easy."

He ushered her to the sofa - he sat with her, a hand on her exposed knee. He spoke into the handset, barking out orders, switching from German to English rapidly. 

"Karl? Franco? Did you catch him?" 

"No, but he's in the elevator shaft."

"Perfect. The elevators are locked off. He can't escape. Just shut him in and return to base."

"Hans, he killed my brother --"

Hans cut in, more firmly this time. "Karl, I know you want him, but the police are probably on their way. Maybe we can convince them it was all a mistake, but not if they hear gunshots! If you lock him in he'll be neutralized -- now do it! Karl? Karl!" 

Silence on the line. She held her breath.

They were alone in the office - in this one she could just about see the crowd outside. She glimpsed a woman crying, felt her own eyes tear up. She massaged her neck, turning her head slightly until her hair hid the moment. Hans knocked a box of tissues on the coffee table towards her on his way by. 

"We do not appreciate waterworks here, liebling." 

She dabbed her eyes, to find him gazing intently at her when she took her hand away.

"Forgive me in this oversight, Miss y/N, I had planned for it to be relatively painless on your behalf." 

"Insurance!" she sighed. "Honestly, how does anyone think up something like that?"

"There are many ways in and out, Miss-"

"Y/N," she said curtly. "Just... Just call me by my first name, if you're going to cross so many boundaries in one night. Ways in... I am absolutely terrified. If you're here for the money, I trust you'll leave us be when you have it." 

"Thank you for your trust. It is touching, if misplaced." 

Her stomach flipped. She felt like being sick. As if in a dream, she walked to the window. He allowed it, watching as though curious, then reached out to stop her progress. 

"Sorry," she mumbled. "Just wanted to see what's happening out there. Hans?"

He raised an eyebrow, ushering her back to the chair. "Y/N." 

"When you said take her for a walk, does that mean 'go kill her now'?"

He said nothing as he ushered her back to the chair. Then, surprising her, he laughed, and laid a hand on her head.

"Oh, Y/N. Didn't I call you my insurance? No, read it as the moment Karl comes down here, you're going up there to allure our mystery guest."

She shook her head. "I... but what - how - I thought you said he has a machine gun!" 

She leapt to her feet to pace but he took her in his arms, then cupped her face in his hands as her eyes reached for the other hostages. 

"Look at me - look at me. Now. If you continue to be of use, no harm will befall you. So listen carefully. The man up there is trained with firearms, and from the sound of it he does not shoot on sight. You will go up there and see what he knows. You will lead him into fire. If you can't do that, find out who he is - more importantly, who he's here with. Don't think for a moment of revealing yourself as my little spy - even if you tried to make a new friend, I'm afraid you couldn't keep up with the stunts up there and will come back riddled with bullets if at all." 

Sense told her that it wouldn't matter so much to him either way if she was killed in the cross fire. She was easily replaceable by someone else in the crowd, and probably knew too much for comfort. 

"Now, how did you escape?"

"By - by hiding under a desk? Then I hid upstairs until I heard the gunfire."

"Good. Believable, just about."

"I really don't have any choice in this," she mumbled. 

He squeezed her shoulder. "Correct."

"Well. Thank you for choosing to preserve my life thus far," she said primly. He arched an eyebrow as he stared down at her. 

"Not what I was expecting to hear."

"Not precisely what I wanted to say, but you understand I'm sure," she hissed, and he pursed his lips, then spun her towards the door. 

"Oh you know I do. But I do wonder," he drawled, his lips so close to her ear she went tense at the electricity, "if you do survive, what will I do to you when you're brought back to me? You're in the territory of reward or punishment now - be good for me and make sure you're very much deserving of one or the other. There's nothing worse than bland people. They just waste time." 

She laughed, and she felt him tense against her back. "That we can agree on, at least." 

He marched her out the door, and they ran into Karl and company on the way out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any requests for what should happen next? I'm open to new ideas ;)


	6. Chapter 6

"She's trading places with you," snapped Hans, pushing her out the fire escape. "And they," he hissed at her, pushing her towards the stairs. "They're going to be five minutes behind you."

"Run, rabbit," leered Karl over Hans' shoulder. Then they slammed the door shut, and she was alone. 

Run, she thought, taking the stairs two at a time. Good idea.

She ran, stumbling when she came upon a body. One of the mercenaries. 

"Fucking hell," she mumbled. She grabbed his bag, and his radio, then froze at a movement from behind a desk. 

"Kid?"

She looked up. It was him. Forgetting all of Hans' warnings, she ran, back down to the thirty first floor. 

Holly's husband. She wanted to slam her head against the window before her. Before she could do anything, the radio crackled to life. 

"I told all of you...I want radio silence until further --"

Hans voice. But John spoke over him. 

"Gee, I'm sorry, Hans, nobody gave me the message. You shoulda put it on the bulletin board. Anyway, I thought you and Franco and Karl and the other boys might be lonely, now that I waxed Tony and Marco and their buddy. So I invited some of the guys from my card game."

"Ah, how nice of you to call. I assume you are our mysterious party crasher. You are most troublesome for a...security guard?" 

"BZZZ! Sorry, Hans, wrong guess. Would you like to go for Double Jeopardy, where the stakes are double and the scores really change?" 

"Who are you, then?"

"Just the fly in the ointment, Hans. The monkey in the wrench, the pain in the ass." 

The line went quiet. The darkness seemed to hold its breath. 

"Mr. Mystery Guest. Are you still there?" 

"I wouldn't think of leaving, Hans. Unless you want to open the front door...?"

" I'm afraid not. But you have me at a loss -- you know my name, but who are you?" The polite veneer dropped, and the ice radiated from the machine. "Just another American who saw too many movies as a child. Another orphan of a bankrupt culture who thinks he's John Wayne...Rambo... Marshal Dillion."

She could hardly breathe. She could hear John's voice now, somewhere close by, passing by her hiding spot. 

"Actually, I was always partial to Roy Rogers. I really dug those sequined shirts."

" Do you really think you have a chance against us, Mr. Cowboy?"

There was an awful pause. Then John crackled to life again. 

"Yipee-yi-yea...mother-fucker."

She breathed in deeply, the bag heavy in her lap. She switched off the walkie talkie. How long could she stay here for, pretending she was out of harm's way? She was in the fox's den, and it would only be so long before someone sniffed her out. She prayed it was John, and that he wasn't made trigger happy by the onslaught Karl would inevitably release. He must have been a police man, or military personnel. How else could he keep his cool? 

Still, she couldn't help but roll her eyes. All men, with their damned guns. She and Holly would have plenty more to complain about if they made it to a bar. In fact, the two of them were, in a way, equally as wrapped up in this. Holly had known from the start John had escaped into the upper floors. In the long term, she was at more of a risk than Y/N. But y/N, thrown into the mist of them all, at present her life preserved by Hans'... not good will. Not at all. At present, she was hardly efficient at any means he had intended to use her for. She had hardly diverted John's attention for an instant. 

Up here, came a tempting thought, she did have the chance to be her own agent. 

Reason rejected it. Crawling about, chancing at hiding spots? In heels? 

John was barefoot. She wasn't John. She also wasn't intending to gun anyone down, foe or not. That had to count for something - she wasn't the target. At most, Karl had played an awful game of cat and mouse with her, but up here it was John he wanted. She could be ignored, forgotten even...

She raced through the scenarios, eyes landing on the bag heavy in her lap. Unless...

She tugged at the zip and cursed her luck. 

Unless she had something they wanted, and if explosives and - what cinema knowledge had taught her were detonators - were anything to go by, she'd be more of a prize than John. 

Now, she thought, before I go absolutely to pieces swearing, how can I work this to my advantage?

She had no answer to that question, as yet. All she could think of was another. 

There were all manner of punishments she could imagine, but what did Hans have in mind when he promised 'reward'? And if the detonators brought it, did she really want to find out? 

*

Downstairs, Hans thought of the woman he might have just sent to her death. No more than a girl, really. His conscience twitched. 

He had kept an eye on her. With the mystery shooter, she could be of more use now than originally planned.   
And yet, for a moment, just a moment, she looked so peaceful - almost asleep. Like a child, fallingasleep out of fear, he reminded himself with a grimace. And yet her lips gleamed pink, her eyelashes fluttering over peach eyelids, her tussled hair suiting her still, the red marks Karl had left on her neck glaring at him as his eyes wandered to her pale chest, almost bare. He wondered if she intended that black dress to be daring, or if it was an innocence, and if what little bravado she had mustered thus far would vanish if he was to take her and throw her onto a bed far from here, how she'd plead with her small voice, maybe with small smiles, all fruitless.

The thought wasn't part of the plan, so he dismissed it. For now.


	7. Chapter 7

Thank you for your trust, he had said. Misplaced, he'd called it. 

Even she hadn't grasped how serious he was on that count. Why have detonators at all, if not to tidy up after the robbery, so to speak? 

He was planning to kill the hostages, unleash total screaming chaos, or both. She didn't know exactly how much the vault bonds were worth, but certainly not enough to disappear with afterwards, unfollowed by secret services, unless everyone was oblivious to the robbery. 

But she wasn't oblivious. She knew the truth.   
So he was going to kill her. So she couldn't go downstairs, nor could she risk getting found waging war on them with John, and dreaded him finding her first. 

For a time she was completely alone, hidden under the desk. But she couldn't stay there forever. Anytime she heard the slightest sound, she moved to a new location until finally she was on the roof. The night was quiet, punctuated by interference from the police. She began to hope she really could wait it out until rescue.

Suddenly she was grabbed from behind, a hand over her mouth, a hand gripping her wrist. 

"Don't move. Don't make a sound," said Hans in her ear. "I'm going to let you go. You're going to turn around, quietly." 

His hands were warm on her skin, firm. He withdrew, and she turned around.

He didn't say anything, glancing about, worried it seemed that they might be heard, but his eyes were on the bag. He took a step closer to her, far too close for comfort. 

She scrambled backwards, tripped awfully, and he grabbed her arm, only to keep her standing. He wasn't visibly armed, but seemed to know she wouldn't bet her neck on it.

"It was you," he said lowly, eyes narrowing as his face came closer to hers. "You had it all along." 

"You're hurting me." 

"I will let you go. And you'll give me the bag." 

Then his eyes widened. 

"Oh God," he cried in an American accent, cowering backwards and dragging her with him. "It's one of them - Don't kill us, please, please -" 

"I'm not gonna kill you." John eyed Y/N. "You are in deep shit, kid. There's two of you in it, huh. Kid, you realise every goon in the building is looking for that bag but it's good to see you alive." 

"I... maybe not for much longer. Good... Good to see you too." 

Hans grip on her arm went lax and she slipped towards John, his finger on the trigger. "How'd you guys get loose?"

"Me? Hid under a desk until I could slip out the fire escape. Him? Just ran into him. I thought for a second he was one of them."

"Bill Clay," said Hans, in such a seamless American accent she nearly laughed, despite everything.

John frowned, his eyes on Y/N. "How'd you do it, kid? How'd you hide after you saw me the first time?" 

"Not sure. I switched off the walkie talkie. I didn't want anyone to find me, with the noise. I had the bag, and once I knew what was inside I figured they'd think you had it, and I could lay low until you fought it out. Given the odds, you're doing pretty well, John." She offered a feeble smile. 

"Kid, you are missing a hell of a show. Hans is going nuts looking for those detonators. He, uh... dunno, if you're ready for this." 

She frowned. "What?"

"He killed Ellis," sighed John, swearing into his hands. 

"Blew his head off," 'Bill' agreed, grim as a promise. 

"Everyone went crazy. That was when I got away. You knew him?" 

She tensed, skin crawling. What was he looking for? 

"I have bad taste in men, and I dodged a bullet with him earlier," she said woodenly, sinking to the ground as John offered the enemy a cigarette. "Not the worst one this night, it turned out."

"And you guys - You know each other too?" 

John shrugged. "Briefly. Takagi introduced us just before this whole thing kicked off. Kid?" 

"He'll kill me. I don't know what to do. I feel sick," she whispered, her stomach thankfully too empty to churn up anything, but she couldn't look at Hans now. There had to be murder in his eyes. John hunkered down in front of her, squeezing her shoulder, his eyes still glancing about. 

"Easy. They don't know it was you. But I'm not gonna lie - wouldn't put it past them to shoot just for finding you up here, so don't hesitate if you see them. You know how to shoot a gun?" 

"Not even a toy one. Honestly, men and their fucking guns!" 

"I'll take it. What about you?" he asked the watchful Bill Clay. 

"I went to a ranch with some buddies once. Picked up a little there. It's not much." 

John rolled his eyes, and begrudgingly handed a pistol to the thinly veiled enemy, picking Y/N to her feet as he did, arm around her shoulder. Ready to burst into tears, she threw a pleading gaze over her shoulder at Hans.

"Kid, I can't say much but -"

Her cry interrupted John as Hans aimed the gun at him, poised to shoot. 

"That's right. You can't. Stop. Right. There." 

Hans took a moment to speak into a walkie talkie, all in German. No one replied. John turned around, careful to keep her behind him, the bag heavy over her shoulder. 

"Give me the bag." 

"Don't shoot, Hans," she mumbled, eyes wide, body frozen. 

John held onto her elbow. "She's staying with me." 

"Oh, is she? Found yourself a Grace Kelly after all, it seems. But, in your own words I believe - yippee kayay, motherfucker." 

He aimed at John and pulled the trigger. Y/N cried out.  
Silence. John grinned. 

"Think I'd give a loaded gun to the first schmuck I see, huh? What you think I am, Hans? An idiot?" 

The elevator dinged.


	8. Chapter 8

Hans grinned and shrugged, but they were already running, skidding onto the floor in unison as the world erupted into gunfire. John propelled both of them forwards, and they dived behind a pair of desks, separated by a gulf full of bulletfire. 

Then the glass cracked in a shower just as John called the shots - so to speak - and made his getaway, throwing an apologetic look her way, leaving a trail of blood behind him. She tried to crawl after him, pain shooting through her legs and her palms, but still there was no way of getting through the gap to follow him without risking a bullet in the head. 

"Don't leave me," she babbled, senseless in desperation. "John!" 

The gunfire stopped, and before she knew it the two of them were standing above her. Her tights were cut through - mostly minor lacerations. Blood on her arms too, and her hands. Karl pushed her forwards, brushed some shards from her hair before Hans picked her up. Without thinking, she buried her head in his shoulder. Her ears were ringing still. Blood was caking on the inside of her thigh. She felt delirious, and he didn't chide her this time for clinging to him. 

"You little brat," hissed Karl. "You had the detonators." 

"No need to push her further," warned Hans. She let out a sob of relief, only for him to interject, "she's worth more to us now that he thinks he's lost a friend."

Karl growled, shouldering the bag. 

She whimpered as they made to move out. Glass had cut into her knees in her attempt to get away. Hans made a sound of disapproval, the sound she would give a child who'd climbed too tall a tree. He offered her an arm for support without looking directly at her.

"You had the bag," he chided. "Mystery Guest hardly gave it to you. So you took it when I first sent you up here. Had you returned then we might have been kinder." 

"No," she managed, half cry, half hiss. 

"No," he repeated, glaring at her now. "You don't think it's very kind, do you? How many bodies did you pass on your way here, Miss Y/N? Did you imagine you could easily be one of them?" 

"Don't." 

For an instant he softened, pulling her closer, a hand on the small of her back. Shocking again, she found herself soften into him, wanting nothing more than to collapse into his arms. Instead she whimpered as he prodded her onwards, downstairs this time, nodding as Karl took off to track down John. For an instant she and Hans were alone. He turned her to him, smoothing her hair from her face. 

"It will all be over soon. Do what you're told, this time. Give me what I want."

She couldn't help herself. She grabbed his hands out of loss for what else to hold onto. 

"Please just stop - stop hurting. Just take the money, take it and go. I'm hurt, I'm bleeding right in front of you and you don't even care." 

His eyes were as cold as ever, his hands breaking free of hers only to find her waist again, pulling her into him, enveloping her in his tall frame. He half walked, half carried her into another room, easing her onto the floor there. Holly's office, she registered. All over again. 

He hunkered down before her. 

"He must be some calibre of guest, Y/N, to be introduced to you by Takagi himself. Tell me... whose guest is he?" 

She shook her head, tears streaming down her cheeks. She couldn't bring herself to say the words 'I don't know' for fear he'd sense the lie, or think her now of no use. 

"You know I have every power to end this now, Y/N," he warned lowly. 

She glowered. "Then impress me and take what you want," she retorted. "Killing me would mean as little to John as killing Ellis. We're all strangers at a Christmas party. I said five words to him, if that." 

Hans looked over his shoulder. "Did you hear that, Christoff? Miss Y/N wants us to 'impress' my answer out of her. I however have lasted this long into the evening without a single bloodstain on my person. I give you every liberty to add to your collection." 

She shrunk into the wall as the towering man approached her, the TV blaring in the background, panicked sobs catching in her throat as he came towards her. 

"Stop it! Just go away, don't touch me!" 

Hans voice again, soft as a snake. "Y/N. Just tell me the truth, and nothing will happen to you." 

A gasp came from the open door. "What are you doing to her? What have you done?" 

"Holly," she managed through a sob, leaping from the floor and launching herself into the woman's arms. 

"Miss Gennero. You overstep your business with us..." 

Hans paused, looking from one woman to the other. 

"Miss Gennero," he said again. "You seem to know one another." 

"What do you want with her, Gruber?" 

"Oh, Y/N? At the moment, the woman is becoming increasingly obsolete. Unfortunate, for her. I thought she had some information I needed, but she seemed reluctant to share."

Y/N felt Holly tense. "What could Y/N possibly know? She doesn't even work here."

"Neither does our mystery guest, it would appear. I did some digging and discovered she knew him. I had wanted a friendly discussion - and she would tell me who brought him here. But she wasn't so kind to oblige me, and we are on a schedule. You two seem close. You were close to Takagi as well, weren't you, Miss Gennero?"

"Stop playing cat and mouse, Mister Gruber. She's afraid half to death, and I can't stand the suspense. What is it you-" 

Holly stopped short, her eyes on the TV.

Two children stood in a doorway. Trembling, Holly gasped. The McClanes, read the caption, the reporter blathering on heedless of the stakes. 

There was a deadly silence, Hans' eyes darting from one woman to the other, calculating. But what? Y/N stifled her tears, meeting his gaze with defiance this time. His eyes froze on her, decision made.


	9. Chapter 9

Choose your own ending! Follow the instructions and see where they take you x A) B) Or C). At the point of divergence chapter instructions will spring up. A is similar to B, only more tender – though I think y’all want B more (y’all is freaks like me). C is its own thing. Anyway, let’s kill it. Figuratively. Hopefully no one dies… hopefully. I just couldn’t decide on which I wanted to sign off on, so have them all! I do love a million different timelines, so if you have any requests for one shots send em this way.   
*

"Detain Mrs McClane here, Christoff," said Gruber curtly, his fingers digging into Y/N's shoulders. 

"What are you doing? Where are you taking her? Don't worry, sweetie," Holly added, almost as an afterthought, almost comical, her hand ripped from Y/N's as Hans dragged her away. 

Another sob tore itself from her lips. For a second she tried to break free of him, but he wouldn't let her budge.

"Now, Y/N. We are far into the night. She's his wife, correct?"

She shrugged, and yelped as he dug a gun barrel into the small of her back. "She - I - yes, I think they're in divorce territory, but yes. Don't look at me as if I was hiding some huge secret - I exchanged about three words with each of them. I can spot an awful married couple at twenty paces. If Holly does care so much, that's her character. You heard her - she's next on the ladder after Takagi. She sees people for what they are, you petty thief." 

He had her by the shoulders, and said lowly into her ear, "In which case, in her eyes you're a little girl who needs mothering. We both know that isn't true, and neither is your summation. I am an exceptional thief, and before the night is through I may resort to kidnapping; so if I were you I'd be more polite." 

She looked up at him, wide eyed. "I really don't want to bait you when I say this. I really don't. But what could you stand to gain against Mister Cowboy McClane by taking me instead of his wife?" 

He smirked. "Again, Miss Y/N, you mistake me for a petty thief. Mister McClane doesn't have my detonators. He knows, surely, he can't stop me. He wants to find his wife - I reason, let him. In the meantime, we have a get out to stage. And if he should come nipping at our heels, it helps that the odd couple both see the same thing when they look at you, and that is a helpless young girl." 

She glowered. "Better that than cannon fodder."

"I do grant you respect, Miss Y/N. You've kept up with me this far. You are the guile heroine of this night. Almost a pity for you, that your efforts have been entirely fruitless. Now sit down." 

The vault. Theo and company stood to attention. It was like she didn't exist. Minutes later, the lights flickered and as if by magic the doors slid open and she gazed up at Hans' face, his hair blowing in the breeze under the vent. He walked past her, barked an order, and immediately the vault was all they could see, or so she thought. Not minutes into grabbing all they could and shovelling it into duffel bags, Hans pulled one of them aside and nodded over his shoulder. "Don't forget the girl." 

What now? she thought, hands hovering above the shards of glass caked into her knees. 

The new man, Eddie, knocked her hands away, hoisting her up. "C'mon now, sweetheart, we have somewhere to be." 

"No -"

"You'll be safe," said Hans. "Part of the plan, all along. Don't fight, Miss Y/N."

She put up another moment of feeble struggle out of pure blind defiance before allowing the man to drag her after him towards the service elevator, hitting the number for the car park. 

"Name's Eddie," he said idly. "You look tired," he noted. 

"Are you going to kill me now?" she ground out, every muscle aching with each step, her legs on fire. He looked at her with pity, she might have said. 

"That's not part of the plan, Boss says."

"Then where are we going."

He smirked. "You're gonna wait in the car, kid."

She stared. Inside the truck, an ambulance. So that was their game; escape in the chaos. 

The moment they were inside Eddie put her in the front seat and handcuffed her to the door handle. After reversing the ambulance so it was ready for the getaway, he waved as he left back for the group upstairs. In the silence she could do little but wait, staring at her reflection. Her hair was tossed and tangled. There was a little cut on her neck she couldn’t even feel against the pain from her legs; she didn’t want to look, but in the quiet there was nothing to do but feed curiosity. Even a glance made her cry out. Her tights were ripped, stuccoed into blood and torn flesh, pulling with even the slightest movement. 

The door swung open and she flinched, shocked at the sight of a total stranger, unarmed, as perplexed as she was, as appalled at the sight of her injuries. 

“Holy shit. Holy shit. Girl, I am just a limo driver but I have got to get you out of here. Jeez, what they do to you?"

"Hide," she hissed. "Whoever you are, just go away or something awful will - " 

A single gunshot ripped through the air, and the limo driver fell to the ground. She didn't even have it in her to scream, breath escaping her as her heart hammered against her chest. Theo hopped into the driver's seat. 

"Close one, huh? What's up, kid? Ah, don't look like that. Can't have any witnesses, right?" 

Witnesses. That meant her too. She pulled violently at the door handle. Theo rolled his eyes. 

"Killing you isn't part of the plan. Keep acting like this and it might be."

It took her time to find the breath to reply. "What do you mean, it might be?" 

"Team mascot, remember? We get out of here with what we came for, you could be a liability if we think you're gonna blab to anyone." 

"Who would believe me?" she retorted. "It's an insane story. Everyone else in the building thinks you're here to blow it up - "

Just as she spoke, the sound of explosions came from above and more tears streamed down her face. Theo just smirked.

"What was that?" she whispered. 

"Our funeral pyre. Our grand exit. Speaking of - hallelujah! It's our man. Is this all we have left?" 

"Hans," she whispered. He was there with two others, throwing bags into the back. So many, she had to wonder how they managed to get it all down here. It took only moments to load up, and once done Theo floored it and they took off out of the building. Hans sprang to her side, unleashing her from the handcuffs. She must have struggled harder than she thought when Theo killed that poor man - red grooves were dug into her skin. He pulled her out of the seat, into the back where Christoff and Eddie sat on the floor amidst the bags. She expected celebration. Instead, their eyes were fixed on her. Predatory.   
She backed up against Hans. He was watching the road over Theo's shoulder. She recognised it - they were on the road away from Nakatomi, no police sirens to be heard. They'd escaped - yet she couldn't help but feel she was worse off than before. Their eyes said murder. 

"Hans," she whispered, clinging now to his arm. His eyes finally found her, only to travel over to Eddie and Christoff. 

"Honestly, still worried?" 

"Boss has a point," Eddie muttered, exchanging a glance with Christoff. 

"I," said Theo, "still vote we kill her." 

Her grip on Hans' arm tightened. He looked at her, just for a moment, and that was all that was needed to convey a genuine worry. Then, suddenly, he took his arm away and eased her onto the floor of the ambulance. 

"Alright. As in all villages, we'll take all opinions into account before casting the final vote. I believe Miss Y/N has been of enough help to have some say in it, don't you?"

Theo snorted. "Help? She kept the detonators up there all night."

She glowered. "I -"

"Wait your turn," Hans said curtly. 

"We kill her now, they'll just assume she got caught in the explosion. Even if she doesn't blab to the police, you really think she's gonna stay quiet around her cowboy friend when she's the only one who knows the truth about what we were there for? And you think he's really not above getting the truth out of her if she's not so willing. Ha. Hahaha." 

"Noted. Eddie?"

"I dunno, Boss. What about you, huh? You look like you'd lie for Hans." 

"She'd do anything for Hans right now," Theo snorted.

If she wasn't so exhausted, she would have blushed. 

"Do try to keep this professional, Theo. Christoff?" 

"It's not what she says here that matters. It's what she says to the cops," hissed the blond hulk of a man, falcon eyes still fixed on hers. "I'm still for keeping the body count to a minimum. But she has to know what she's going to say, and believe it when she says it."

Hans' eyes finally found hers again. "Good point. What happened tonight, Y/N?" 

She shook her head, a furious gleam in his eyes prompting her to speak. "I - I- was at the party. Then y-you came - "

"Who came?"

"I..." She caught on. "Terrorists." 

"Then what happened?" 

"They took Takagi. And they took me -" 

"Why?" 

"To... to..."

"Faster, Y/N."

*  
Ending A – The thieves are impatient and anxious, which doesn’t mix well when guns are in the equation. Hans has to make a quick decision to spare an innocent life. Go to Chapter 10. (tender and a little sad)  
OR  
If Y/N keeps talking, keep reading.   
*

"To make sure the others kept in line. They killed Takagi and it was pretty clear they'd kill me too if anyone tried anything. But there was someone upstairs, fighting them, killing them. So they sent me up to act as a decoy, but instead I hid there and thought I could wait it out..." 

One of them let out a soft, startled laugh at that, but she continued. 

"I found a bag full of detonators, and I thought I could keep it hidden. But eventually one of them found me. John led them on in thinking he had the detonators, but now they knew. They almost killed both of us, but he got away. They kept me alive, just to find out who'd invited him then... there... there was a vault -" 

Christoff moved like lightning, stepping on her leg. She screamed, pleading with Hans to make him stop, but he just looked away. "There was no vault."

"There was no vault," she repeated. "They - they - I- I -" 

"You were alone with one of them," said Hans, suddenly, motioning for Christoff to ease off as he hunkered down in front of her. "He took pity and let you go. You ran, back to the other hostages but kept your distance. One of the men open fired on the crowd. The bad men were panicked, you understand. Then there was an explosion upstairs. In the chaos, Mister McClane killed the last of them; it appeared the rest of them were taken out by the explosion intended to wipe out the entire building. In the chaos, you ran downstairs among the other hostages and found an ambulance. You were hysterical. They gave you a sedative. And that's the end, Y/N. Now tell me again what happened." 

She nodded shakily, did as he told her. 

"You have two options, Y/N. Option one is just that; you'll wake up in a hospital bed, face questioning from the FBI and the police. We have eyes in the hospital; if you appear a liability, word will reach us and vengeance will be swift, with a firm ending. Your other option is simply to disappear, as if you had died in that building. This money was supposed to be split among many hands - we can afford another pair at this rate. But you'll have to disappear." 

"Disappear... where?" she wondered aloud. 

Hans stopped short. "I must admit, Miss Y/N, I didn't foresee you choosing this option." 

The others seemed shocked as well. She closed her eyes.

"I just... just... ah, I'm not thinking clearly. No. Take me to the hospital. I feel like I need to be there anyway..." 

"First repeat it all - what happened?" 

She started the story again. Halfway through, Eddie drew a syringe from the first aid box left conspicuously waiting on the floor. She paused.

"Don't look at him," said Hans wearily. "Look at me. Keep talking." 

"I was alone with one of them. H-he -" She grimaced, needle deep in her arm. "He seemed to take pity and let me go. Then I ran back downstairs but I heard more gunfire. One of them got panicked, started to open fire on the crowd. It was such chaos I couldn't even see who it was. Then John showed up and killed him... and... and... I just... just... remember an explosion. That happened? That happened. "

*  
Option B: After Y/N falls asleep, the thieves still aren’t pacified, and Hans does what he can to preserve her life. Go to chapter 11 (hot and cold, the most extreme of the endings!)  
Option C: To the hospital it is, but will Y/N be free of the exceptional thief as time goes on? For a while, maybe. Go to chapter 12 (sweet)


	10. Chapter 10

Ending A   
A) The thieves can’t be reasoned with! It leaves Hans only one option if he wants to spare an innocent life…

“Hans, turn around,” insisted Eddie, as she wailed, clinging to him for dear life. “I’ll do it.”

It was the breaking point. Hans’ calm demeanour flew away, revealing the rage boiling underneath. “Would you all just SIT DOWN! You are not killing a twenty-five-year old. I have another way out that may persuade you, and if it’s her only way to live she may begin to calm down and stop making a headache out of a victory. Sit down, Y/N.” He pushed her to the ground, but behind him, out of harm’s way. “I propose she come with us; with me, rather, as we’ll all soon go our separate ways. You can rest assured she’ll be spoiled enough to keep quiet – and if she did decide to call the authorities,” he added, punctuating it with a glare in her direction, “ – she would be suspected as accomplice, and I would arrange the proof of such an allegation.”

Eddie hesitated, then holstered his gun.

“Alright,” Hans said. “On paper, a dead woman. Y/N. You’re coming with us now.”

As Y/N let the throes of a panic attack overwhelm her, unable to breathe, Theo glared at Hans through the rear-view mirror. “You keep her, Boss.”

“For want of a better phrase, for the moment, yes.”

Eddie’s eyes drifted from Y/N, and he nodded to the first aid kit. “You want me to…?”

“That won’t be necessary anymore. We’ll abandon the ambulance at the drop point. Let them know, our people in the hospital, that they’ll get their share. Y/N, we’re leaving the city for the time being. We’re going to leave the ambulance, and you’ll come with me.” He eyed his people. “We’re splitting up as planned. Though we are few and far between, a congratulations is in order. Enjoy the spoils, gentlemen – and lady, should she decide to hear me. We’ll meet again tomorrow, my hotel room.”

“Don’t you mean ‘our’ hotel room?” drawled Theo, and Eddie snapped “shut it” in his direction. They drove for about forty minutes, she thought, keeping time on Hans’ wristwatch as he didn’t move from where he stood in front of her. She managed to calm her breathing, and, forgetting about her, the thieves became celebratory, boasting of what they’d do now they had double the share of the loot they’d been promised. 

Finally, the ambulance came to a stop off the beaten track, where a succession of cars stood lined up, far more than the handful left alive needed. Hans nodded to Theo and Christoff. “Take care this can’t be easily found. Come, Y/N,” he ordered, motioning for her to join him in the car.

She was crying, he realised, silent tears. Before long the shock finally reached her, and she was asleep. He stirred her once they drove back into the city and reached the hotel, not inexpensive by a longshot. There was no reason to leave town; no one had learned their identities, and photos of anyone in the party of thieves were few and far between, all of them blurry. Unless the night receptionist at the hotel knew Y/N personally (far from likely), they were safe. He stirred Y/N after he parked, speaking softly so as not to trigger another outburst. He gave her his trench coat to put on, to cover her wounds, helping her to fix her hair, and clean her face of rings of bleeding mascara. She was so disorientated she soaked up his every word, and by the time they were through she looked as if she’d merely had a long day, but an ordinary one. 

“Better already,” he said, still not a word from her, following orders mutely. He leant her his arm, ushering her to the check in desk where he spoke in a clipped English accent.

“My wife decided to join me last minute. I’ll cover any additional charges to the room. A last minute decision…” He squeezed her arm, leading her upstairs when he had the key to the room, the receptionist fooled. She fooled him in turn – he thought she was too exhausted to put up much of a fight, but the moment he closed the room door she darted into the bathroom, locking the door behind her. If she expected to bang it down and drag her out, it would be another story. 

He loosened his tie, kicked off his shoes, and lay in wait on the bed. Before long, he heard running water from the bathroom, sobs and swears in quick succession. Twenty minutes passed before she forced herself to open the door, in a bathrobe, her ripped tights still clinging to her legs, though she must have tried to peel them off. She didn’t look at him, pausing for just a moment before making a beeline for the sofa.

“Y/N,” he said sharply. “Stop this at once. You need help with your wounds. Come here, now,” he said, patience wearing thin. He had taken the first aid kit from the ambulance for a reason, after all. With effort, she climbed up, sitting cross-legged in front of him, though he moved her to a move comfortable position against the pillows. He cut off her tights with a scissors, tuning out her whimpers and squirms as he peeled them from the sticky, blood-caked cuts. She covered her eyes as he picked out the glass, clutching the bedsheets as he disinfected the wounds, a towel laid out to save the bedsheets from blood. It could be dismissed as a nosebleed, if anyone asked. She was exhausted by the time he was done. 

“Th-thank you,” she stammered when he set the box aside, turning rigid again just as he thought all energy had left her. “Should I…?” She looked at the sofa, and he shook his head, surprised when she threw her arms around him. 

He sighed. “You are dangerously passionate, Y/N.”

“I just – I couldn’t take all that out by myself,” she mumbled. 

He kissed the side of her head. For a moment she went tense again, then softened against him, docile as a kitten. Without letting her go, he pulled the covers around them. He thought she’d fall asleep instantly, but instead conducted a whispered conversation with him in the dark.

“I’m still afraid,” she mumbled, and he smoothed her hair.

“You needn’t be. I admit, this wasn’t the ending I’d planned. I’m sorry to hurt you so deeply. It was all I could do, to keep you alive. So many threats I made against you were empty. But we’ll talk about that after some rest.”

She was silent for a beat, then said lowly, “I don’t want to think about that until I have to. I’m just pretending this is a dream.” 

“Poor girl. Come, say what you want.” 

“Here, now, with you – it’s not so bad. But I’m afraid of what’s next.”

“Oh liebling. Shh-shh. I can’t make you promises tonight, but we will make this work.”

He felt her look up, felt her eyelashes against his cheek. “Can I just stay with you? You won’t… lock me up somewhere forever?”

“What manner of ogre do you think I am, liebling?”

She shrugged, restless. “Like I said, it’s like a bad dream.”

“Then have some faith it will turn into a good one. I’ll give you anything you desire.”

“Am I supposed to…?”

“What is it?”

“You know – you know the way you said, you said you’d ‘keep’ me, so – so does that mean that I… with you, I mean I – does that mean you want me to…”

“I can feel you blushing in the dark, Y/N. Not tonight, is your answer. Not unless you want to. As for why you are in this bed, correct me if I’m wrong, but you looked like a cat who wanted to be in someone’s arms.”

That got a smile out of her, head buried in his chest, the “that’s true” she admitted muffled by his shirt. Before long, they were both asleep, and ‘tomorrow’ was another story.


	11. Chapter 11

B) Things look like they’re about to get violent, and Hans makes a decision that will surprise Y/N when she wakes up. 

Theo broke the silence that followed as Y/N slipped out of consciousness. 

“Hans, come on. If you don’t, one of us will. Keep her or kill her, Boss.”

“I can clean up her wounds,” Eddie offered. “We can keep her asleep for as long as possible, if that makes it easier. Tell the night receptionist she’s your daughter, wife, whatever. You’re not thinking straight, Boss. You must want to keep her. Otherwise, you’d kill her – you said you would in the planning stage, if she saw too much. And she saw a lot. But it goes against your principles, I get it. It’s important to have a few of those. She’s a woman, she’s young, not involved with any of this. And she looks at you like… well, sure, I get it. But she’s too much of a liability to let loose. Keep her, and we’re happy. Heck, she’ll probably make you happy once she calms down. Or turn around, and I’ll do it.”  
He didn’t need to pause. He saw the desperation in their eyes, so many of them already dead. He made the decision. 

*  
She stirred, expecting to feel an IV drip in her arm, some form of restraint, words jumping on and off her lips. “Don’t hurt me again…”

The bed was soft, wide. Too luxurious for a hospital bed. Suspicious, she kept her eyes closed for a moment, then felt a hand smooth her hair away the hair from her face. She opened her eyes, blinking up at the thief. Her heart almost stopped. 

“A wonderful entrance. No one’s going to hurt you, Y/N.”

She stared. Then she threw herself across the bed to grab at the phone, and he threw himself after her, grappling with her, stopping her from reaching it. “Who do you mean to call, Y/N? They turned violent when you were put asleep – I had to take you under my protection, or they’d kill you. The world thinks you’re dead. Appear alive and you become an accomplice, go to prison. There’s no going back for you.”

She gasped. He’d never been so close to her, his entire weight on top of her, bed covers thrown aside. She was wearing nothing but a bathrobe and bandages, and blushed red. He must have taken it as a bout of anger, or a sign she was about to scream. Suddenly, she felt his hand move – move there, between her open legs. She gasped, his expression unmoved, hazel eyes all steel. 

“You’ll have to learn somehow, Y/N.”

Her blush deepened, his fingers still between the folds of her flesh. “Will you – will you take your hand away if I kiss you?”

He seemed surprised by the suggestion. Then he nodded, waiting a beat for her to move. When she didn’t, he took the kiss for himself and she responded, her teeth grazing his lips. He took it as an invitation and bit down on hers roughly. She gave a small mewl, then cried out seriously as his leg brushed over her bandaged knees.

“I am sorry for that,” he allowed, breaking the kiss. Hotly, she nodded and swallowed.

“Then… Then you’ll take your hand away.”

“That was me who kissed you, I’m sure. We agreed it would be the other way around. Regardless, you seem to have grown very comfortable.”

Scarlet again, she could feel the wet pool between her legs, and when he moved his fingers he sent a spasm of pleasure through her to emphasise the point.

“Did – did you take my dress off?”

He chuckled. “No, I didn’t take the liberty, though I can see why you might think so. There’s little attractive about unconscious women, though you make a pretty picture.”

“You’ve seen a-all of me.”

He nodded. “That, and you talk in your sleep.”

She whimpered, his fingers moving still, while he himself looked like he was watching from a distance, unmoved by her trembling and gasping. His other hand still held hers by the   
wrists above her head, and all she could do was arch her back into the pleasure, part of her horrified she let him work her body so readily.

“Wh-what did I say?”

“ ‘Hans-Hans-Hans’, funny, like you were having a vision. No, don’t blush – you sounded so innocent. It made me happy to keep you. It was the only option at the time, though I believe we’ll… come to enjoy each other before long. Though you may think of yourself as a prisoner, I promise you that you’ll want for nothing. You need only ask – “

“Hans, stop.”

“Are we going to play nicely, Y/N?”

She nodded and he took his hand away, the other still trapping her wrist. She breathed in relief, though he didn’t move from where he sat, straddling her. She stared at the ceiling. 

The hand holding her wrist turned to stroke her hair. She took the small comfort, her own hands holding his to her face, closing her eyes. A kind of submission, she could feel herself give way to the reality. His hand was on her thigh, and instantly she regretted telling him to stop. She opened her eyes, gazing at him. It was enough of a hint, and it seemed to catch him off guard, but he was prepared nonetheless, sliding inside her roughly, making her shake with every thrust. He turned her onto her hands and knees, pressing her back into an arch. He brought her to the brink of tears, bathrobe thrown aside. Altogether it was brief; but he didn’t want to break her, not in the state she was in, wanting to keep the balance more pleasure than pain. When he was through she was panting, and he caught her in his arms before she collapsed, gathering her to his chest. 

“How do you feel?”

“Dizzy. Sore.”

“You’re almost slipping away. Time to eat, don’t you think? As for the pain, it’s my doing…?”

She shook her head. “I’m stiff all over.”

“You slept for sixteen hours. It’s only to be expected. You look so dizzy, I think you need to lie down.”

“But that,” she sighed as he lay her on her back, massaging her bare breasts. “We’ll do that again?”

He laughed. “I think we’ll find the time, yes. Now, what would you like to eat?”

“I feel like I’ll be sick if I eat now.”

“You’re nervous, is that it? To be seen here? To be here? I carried you in unconscious last night and they didn’t blink twice.”

“How?” 

“I covered you in my coat and ‘introduced’ you as my jet-lagged wife. The receptionist thought it was a very gentlemanly thing to do. The irony isn’t lost on me.”

She pulled the covers over herself, turning over to face him. “And you cleaned me up?”

“That was a two man job, I’m afraid. Eddie doesn’t care for women, rest assured. Our interest was in preventing infection. I had a meeting with the others this morning, and since then I’ve been spending my time here, waiting for you to wake up.”

For a moment she grimaced, thinking how awful it was to be so out-of-body for so long. She had no recollection of anyone touching her, the sedative had sent her so deep under.   
She looked in the mirror across from the bed now – bruises had formed across her throat where Karl had grabbed her and her fingers probed the space, wincing. Hans tutted, taking her hands.

“Don’t look at that, liebling. Don’t touch. You’ve been through enough.”

She curled into him, thinking of all she was to leave behind, wondering what she could possibly have with him to keep her alive. That in itself made her excited instead of afraid. Better than an opera.


End file.
